


Ὑακίνθια

by macabremusic



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: ? - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, He did get resurrected and deified, He's alive btw, Hyacinthia was a thing, Light Angst, M/M, Post- Apotheosis, Post-Canon, Power Dynamics, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29172540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabremusic/pseuds/macabremusic
Summary: Ὑακίνθια/Hyacinthia was the second most major holiday/festival in Spartan culture. Hyacinthus was a very, very important person to the Spartans since he brought connection to Apollon and opened the doors to new lines of culture.It lasted three days. The first being a period of purely mourning over the hero, the second being celebration of his resurrection, was spent praying to and worshipping Apollon. There is little known about the third, but it was more solemn, with offerings held to the new deity.
Relationships: Apollo/Hyacinthus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Preparations

Ten years after his death and subsequent resurrection, Hyakinthos was awoken by the sounds of someone attempting to carefully climb out of bed. Apollon, it had to be. He was the only other occupant of the room. While it was not his place to stop the god, with his needs to pilot the sun, Hyakinthos was not looking forward to spending the day without his lover. He spoke. 

"Can't you give it a rest? At least for today." He tried placing as much sympathy into his voice as possible. 

The sun god turned to face him. "You know I have work to do." His hair was still disheveled, and the chiton hung loose around his shoulders. And as though blessed by Aphrodite, he still looked amazing. He was amazing, and he would forever be amazing, in Hyakinthos' eyes. 

He pouted a little. "Of course, of course, I get it. I just miss you when you go..." 

"Oh.. oh don't do that to me.. you know I can't resist you." He groaned, but sat down. Hyakinthos moved to wrap his arms around his waist, leaning his head into Apollon's shoulder. 

They had lived like this ever since he had been allowed to return to the world. It had taken some convincing, but he was permitted to stay as a god with Apollo. His lover. His beautiful, wonderful lover. They lived together, determined not to let anything, anything ruin the semblance of peace they had created. 

A tutelary deity Hyakinthos was, representing the natural cycle of life and death, and the steps into adulthood. Most of his main duties were centered around the festival held in his, in their honor. He oversaw the process, the games, and the holiday itself, which took place in Amyclae.

He always went, even if the games became uninteresting year after year, just to hear the people sing praises of his lover. Because yes, Apollon was glorious, and yes, you should thank him for the bountiful harvests and the jovius moods of the seasons. He brought life, a certain spark of creativity and fun to a once barbaric place. 

It still amazed Hyakinthos, laying there with his hair being braided lazily, that he even had the privilege to be this open and intimate with a powerful god. As harsh as it sounds, he had once taken for granted the amount of pure affection he was lavished in, and the desire he could return freely. But after having such rights stripped from him, he was certain he would never act so foolish again. He had made a pact to live in the moment, because you never know. 

"I adore you." It was sudden, and bold, but he meant it in the moment and he'd mean it for all of eternity. 

Apollon beamed at him. Any thoughts of rejection or retribution were abandoned. After all, how could loving someone so fully be a crime? His love made him whole, and now they could have one another without fear. 

Apollo leaned down to connect their lips. Another amazing part of all this. Their embraces. His embrace, more whole, more loving than that of a soulmate. It was as though they were intertwined, woven together by the fates themselves, and nothing, no cosmic power, no higher being could erase what would be forever etched in time. 

They were both laying now, tangling their fingers in each other's hair. Hyakinthos' was far shorter, having only started growing it out a month previous. His hair had formerly been extremely short, cut so the world would know he was now a man, ready to make his marks on the world. And he had kept it that way in the mortal months he knew Apollo, and in the godly years of reuinitation. Soft, loosely curled, dark. 

He reached to run his hands lovingly down Apollo's shoulders, smoothing out whatever little tension was left over from the past evening's counsel meeting. He himself, Hyakinthos, had never attended, as he was a minor god, known only for being Apollon's consort, but he knew his lover got stressed after them.

He hated seeing Apollo stressed. He was not one to stress over things that you needn't worry about in the moment, but perhaps that was a sign of boyish foolishness. Perhaps he simply could not understand what being an Olympian was like. 

No matter, he'd always try his best to smooth out the kinks and calm his beloved down. It didn't take much. 

They did this often, often enough he had long since discovered the many ways his lover enjoyed it. Passionate, quick, or languid and slow, heated, he was always willing to cater to him and fulfill whatever desire he felt

Of course, Hyakinthos also had these preferences, and Apollon had long, long since worked out exactly how to make him tremble and beg, and oh his skin was so warm, and smooth, and Apollon felt an overwhelming affection wash over him as they finished.

He loved bringing Hyakinthos to these heights of pleasure, loved seeing his beautiful one look at him so longingly. 

They laid content afterwards, and spent the day in preparation for the joyous festivals to be held tomorrow. Bliss. 


	2. Day One: Solemn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of Hyacinthia was widely regarded as a day of mourning for the dead, and specifically Hyacinthus. It was very solemn, and the people wore plain, dark clothes. There was no work to be held, and offerings were made to the deceased. People ate plain, bland breads and soups. 
> 
> Hyakinthos is likely what would have been closest to how his name was actually spelt. Hyacinthus and Hyakinthos are the same person.  
> Also: Apollon is Apollo.

The day after was not so exuberant. It was the first day of his festival, and he naturally oversaw the proceedings. It was a day of rest and mourning. Mourning for the dead, and mourning his death, though that had long since passed. 

He watched the floods of people in plain, dark chitons from high up above. He sat in his own chariot, drawn by swans. He would have been very pleased to join the proceedings, but he thought it unfit since they were in grief over his death. 

And Apollon wasn't there. He never liked the first day of Hyacinthia. It brought up too many painful memories of his own grief and longing for mortality. Hyakinthos didn't blame him, and watched the parades alone. 

The first day always had gray skies, occasional rain, reflecting the sad atmosphere and the feelings of the sun god himself. Right now, dark, heavy clouds loomed around Hyakinthos as he looked upon Amyclae. He could have taken his sister, Polyboea up to the sky with him, if she was not also wary of the first day's proceedings. She had mourned her brother too after all, and it didn't seem fair to her that they could make it a holiday. It should be personal, that's what she'd say.

But she was likely off playing with the naiads, a distraction she had picked up to ease the memories and pain. They were kind to her, Hyakinthos made sure of it. Everyone was kind to his younger sister, the minor goddess risen from the dirts of Sparta. 

People were kind to Hyakinthos too, and why shouldn't they be? He made a point to be nice, and it had seemed to pay off. Of course, there was the occasional stare of disapproval as they learned of his closeness to Apollo, but that passed. His lover demanded it. 

Some people were plain nasty though, whispering behind his back all the things he could have done to get not one, but two gods desire him. The rumours ranged from performing carnal acts for money, to witchcraft on his mother's part. He tried his best to ignore the people. They didn't matter anyways.

Of course, he did have no idea what he had done to get his share of admirers. And it wasn't just gods, either. 

His heart sank a little as he remembered Thamyrice. The poor boy, maybe one, two years younger than him, that was very passionate indeed. People oftentimes whispered about him as well, and his sad end. 

Hyakinthos couldn't protest when he was punished by the Muses. Thamyrice had brought it upon himself, after all. But maybe, maybe if he had been a tad nicer in turning him down, maybe if he had put up with his antics for just another few years, the man wouldn't have ended up the way he did.

He had once brought up this concern to Apollon, who smiled at him sadly and reminded him there was nothing to be done. That he couldn't have stopped the boy's ego and pride from being his ruin. It was foretold, that's what Apollo told him. It was etched in stone, and he couldn't erase it. That didn't ease the guilt. 

But today **was** a day for honoring the dead, and who's to say Hyakinthos couldn't take part?

He appeared in an alleyway. He could tell there was a marketplace near, where people would buy plain bread, black bread to offer. 

He had disguised himself well. No one would be able to tell it was him, although he still had the tell-tale scar stretching from the back of his head to just above his left eye. So he supposed you could know it was him, if you really wanted to. 

Not many people really wanted to. 

spat

He paid for his offerings without struggle and made his way to the burial mounds, searching for Thamyrice's. Or perhaps, his own. He wasn't quite sure yet. He hadn't visited his grave in some time, and he wasn't even sure what it looked like at that point. Now that he had been restored to life, Apollo didn't see any need to keep checking on how the groundskeepers were keeping it. 

He did find Thamyrice's grave quickly. It was small, and plain, and the people who buried him, ( _His family? Did he have family?_ ) were not sympathetic. And Hyakinthos wasn't sympathetic either, he supposed. 

But he was respectful, and he gave the proper offerings, and said the proper words, and threw in an apology while he was at it. 

Rain poured down from the skies as he walked. He wasn't sure where he was walking. But the rain beat heavy on his head, and it was presumed the gods were angry.

Offerings to Apollo started flooding in. He could tell. He knew, because word was on the street that they (he himself, and Apollon) had a spat and now the sun god was angered that his festival was being celebrated. 

Of course, Hyakinthos shook his head at these notions. They hadn't fought that day, or yesterday, or the day before, or..... when had they last fought? 

He was the man in question that Apollo was supposedly mad at after all, and he had no idea what could be making his lover so upset as to ruin his holiday.

And it wasn't as though Apollo wasn't a part of Hyacinthia. He was a very major part, in fact, the people prayed more to him than they did the person the holiday was named after! 

There was no reason Apollo should be upset. And that concerned him. 

He was back home in a minute. No one had lit any lamps, and most things appeared where he had left them, but there was an oddly large lump beneath the covers, he hadn't remembered placing anything there. 

_Oh._

He patted Apollo's shoulder gently. He couldn't tell if the man was awake, but if he wasn't, he needed to be. 

"Hey. Hey.." Apollo turned to look at him groggily.

"Oh, it's you." There wasn't a playfulness to his voice, one that Hyakinthos was so used to hearing, and that made his concern ever the stronger. 

"Yes, it is me. Is something wrong? Did I upset you?" 

"No, no, I'm just wondering why you took the time out of your day to go and visit Thamyrice, that's all." 

Ah. So that's what this is about. They had had their fair share of slight arguments about him. In Apollo's eyes, it was the same as offering to Zephyrus. In Hyakinthos' mind, he was only trying to be respectful, and make up for the years he had ignored the admirer.

"Oh. Dearest, you needn't worry over me offering to a dead man." The words were harsh, but they were true. 

"It's... It's not that it's just... I don't understand why you must participate on this day."

"Well, It is kind of my responsibility." He chuckled, but that only made Apollo's expression worse. 

"Would you like me to just stay here today?" He asked gently, rubbing small circles on Apollo's back. 

Apollo took a moment to consider. 

"That would be nice, yes." 

He positioned himself under the covers so they were lying down together. Apollo wrapped warm hands around his waist and back. Hyakinthos melted into them.

He thought it nice they could simply lay there all day, holding one another. The room was silent. 

The rain had stopped. 


	3. Day Two: Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of Hyacinthia was far more joyful, with parades, chariot racing, feasts, and choirs. 
> 
> There is an explicit scene starting right after “No, no drinking today. Apollo was far more intent on doing other things.” and ending at “He was beginning to get emotional.” 
> 
> just putting that out there in case you want to skip :)

He awoke Apollon this time, rubbing his back slowly and trying to coax him into opening his eyes. Weary and groggily, he finally got the man to look at him. 

“What time is it?” Apollo asked, although Hyakinthos was a bit confused as to why, since he was the sun god and shouldn’t he know?

“Morning, dear.” 

“Do I have to wake up?”

Hyacinthus was again confused. “I thought you liked the second day? Polyboea’s already waiting for us.” 

Apollo wiped his eyes at this, adjusting his body to be sitting up instead of slumped over on the bed.   
He did enjoy the second day of Hyacinthia. And not only because of the praises he received. Seeing Hyakinthos so immersed in the festival was wonderful. Most of the time he simply watched his lover clap for the dancers and bet on the races, barely paying attention to the stuff he probably should have been. 

Hyakinthos was a ball of energy, pulling slightly on Apollon’s arms to get him up and out of the bed. Apollo put on a bit of a show for him, pretending to be grumpy and mope about, but Hyakinthos knew better and could see straight past his beloved’s act. 

The traditional styles of Amyclae usually weren’t so bright and wound with color, but they made an exception for the holiday.   
Apollo had dressed in an array of golds and reds, while Hyakinthos decided to go with a more cool color scheme. Purple, after all, was his favorite color. 

Polyboea grinned up at them widely as they entered the palace’s lawn, if you could call it that. It was more of a park, with an obscene amount of flowers and shrubbery.   
Hyakinthos loved it though, and no one would have it any other way. 

A young woman Polyboea was, which sometimes left Hyakinthos feeling uneasy. He had known her as a child, and then a young teenager, but never an adult.   
Her appearance only reminded him of his absence in her life, and he found himself wondering if the world had been kind to her. 

Her hair hung in dark curls, eyes sparkling. She was not a former demigod child of Clio, but Pierus made due. She had a vast array of freckles sprinkling her nose, and Hyakinthos missed the days he could squish her cheeks and play with her as a child. 

Apollon helped her into their chariot, and then attempted doing the same to Hyakinthos, who swatted his hand away and climbed in with a smile. 

Polyboea loved flying, loved the way her hair and fingertips got caught in the breeze, the refreshing smell of springtime, and the wind that blew wildly.

Hyakinthos did not. He gripped Apollo’s hand with panic as the rose into the air. The wind blew at him too, pushing back his hair to reveal the long, deep scar, and ducked. Apollo comforted him, being long since acquainted with the sky, but it wasn’t the flying. It wasn’t the highly.

It was the fear of Zephyr catching up to him again, as irrational as that may be. And Apollo knew this, knew how to hold him after he woke screaming from nightmares, knew how to kiss his forehead and calm him down, and Hyakinthos was grateful. 

He was grateful for his feet upon the ground as they landed, and for Polyboea’s wide smiles, and his lover’s careful glances. 

They snuck in through the back, floating gently up to the top of the parade crowds, perching themselves up on the highest bleacher. A young boy pointed up at him and laughed. He waved politely.

The festival was still getting started. He could see the women preparing to weave the chiton they offered to Apollo, the choirs practicing, the fathers reminding their boys how important this was, the mothers fussing and saying how they’ll be fine, and to have fun. 

To start the ceremony, the races. Hyakinthos loved chariot racing. It was one of his favorite pastimes since childhood. Apollo loved admiring Hyakinthos’ grin as the carts pushed against one another. Polyboea loved seeing her brother happy, (and winning money from the bets.) 

The underdog came first place, which may or may not have been because of a small push from the sun god. Hyakinthos was rooting for them anyways, which may have been biased, but the children knew to pray to him beforehand.

Later, the dancing. Polyboea, being near unrecognizable, joined. Apollo didn’t take his eyes of Hyakinthos’ lips once, which were mouthing along to the chants being sung.   
He felt a warm, funny feeling build in his chest when Hyakinthos smiled brightly at him, laughing and teasing him about not joining in. 

Truth was, he didn’t want to take any attention away from Hyakinthos. It was his festival, and Apollo was there for him, not for his own personal gain.   
_____________________________________

The feasts were later in the day, and Apollo summoned figs for Hyakinthos to snack on as they waited out the rush of people. Polyboea was still down there, keeping up with the proceedings and participating the best she could.   
They could eat once everyone had left, or when they returned home. Plenty of offerings had surely been placed for both of them, and so they let Pokyboea have her share first. She was less likely to receive anything. 

Apollo watched the women weave for him, a tradition he wasn’t sure who came up with. It was very intricately designed, with various colors colliding against one another. He had quite the closet assortment to choose from.   
_____________________________________

When it was time to go home, Polyboea immediately fell asleep against Hyakinthos’ shoulder, who stroked her hair and warned Apollo that as much as he loved him, he would beat his ass if Apollo woke her. 

They ended up carrying her to her own villa a half mile away from the palace, where her servants took her in and thanked them for returning her. 

Hyakinthos took his hand as they walked back to their home. His eyes were glittering and Apollo felt as though he could stare at them for all of eternity. 

There was indeed many, many offerings on the table for them. It would likely take the pair a month to finish all the wine. 

But Apollo wasn’t intent on drinking that night. That was saved for the next day. 

They ate and climbed the marble stairs back to their bedroom. Hyakinthos leaned against him as they made their way there. 

No, no drinking today. Apollo was far more intent on doing other things. 

Hyakinthos’ lips tasted like figs. That might not have been Apollo’s favorite fruit, but at the moment he couldn’t get enough of it. His breath, hot and sweet, blew against Apollo’s skin as he moved to trail kisses down his neck as well.   
He was making some very pleasant noises in Apollo’s ear, which only egged him on further. 

He pressed Hyakinthos against the bed, smiling as he giggled when the touches felt ticklish. He helped him remove the toga, which he would have ripped off eagerly if not for its expensive material.

He kissed more rough against the now exposed skin, grazing his teeth against Hyakinthos’ stomach, if only to hear his soft moans. 

“I’m glad you listened to me when I said foreplay was important.”   
Apollo looked up fast, accidentally biting a bit of the sensitive skin on Hyakinthos’ lower stomach. 

His face was red at that. 

“What?”   
“I said... I’m glad you listened when I mentioned that foreplay is important..”

“Who said this was foreplay?”   
Hyakinthos’ face was steadily growing more flushed, his eyes widening.   
“It’s not? I umm.. maybe assumed. Since, you know-“ his words came out whispered and fast as Apollo bit down a little on his neck -“you’re...” 

“I’m only kidding, love.” Apollo murmured against his collarbone.   
Watching Hyakinthos, he was surprised that the man’s face could become any more red, but it managed to. 

“Don’t... ah, don’t mess with me like that!”   
“Mm?”

“I almost thought you weren’t going to...”

Oh, how Apollo loved getting him like this! So desperate beneath him, he took pride in knowing he could make Hyakinthos squirm.

The kisses grew steadily more heated and moved downwards, to the point where Hyakinthos was whining and moaning about how he **needed** Apollo, who in turn, teased him about just what he needed.

”Need what, darling, be specific.”   
Hyakinthos could barely speak, and as soon as he started lightly sobbing, Apollo abandoned his teasing, looking up with concern. 

“Are you alright, my love? You can always tell me if you don’t like something.”

Silent tears ran down Hyakinthos’ cheeks, and he spoke. “No, no I need... please Apollo please I need you I can’t...”

Apollo enjoyed teasing Hyakinthos, working him up, but he did not like being needlessly cruel.   
And their arousals hurt by that point, so maybe he was going overboard on the foreplay. 

“Okay, okay, it’s alright, shhh. You’re doing so good, you know that? You’re so good for me.”

His hand lightly touched Hyakinthos’ erection, who whined in relief and moved against his hand.

”Is this what you wanted, love?”

Hyakinthos nodded eagerly, tightening his grip on the bedsheets as Apollo sped up, bringing him to ecstasy. He cried out into the air, and Apollo thought that he would never see anything more beautiful. 

Apollo held him tenderly afterwards, and as the former mortal was clearly in no shape to finish him, brought himself past the edge. 

He cleaned them both up, but there were still tears in the corner of Hyakinthos’ eyes, and Apollo kissed his cheeks and swore never to do that again. 

“Hurts.” He said, a tear escaping his eye.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I was too hard on you, wasn’t I?”

“A little bit.”   
“Don’t ever be afraid to tell me you want something, Hyakinthos. I love you so much, I will never hurt you.”

He was beginning to get emotional.   
“I love you too.” The tears had stopped. He pressed himself closer to Apollo, wrapping his arms around him. 

Apollo’s body was warm, shielding and guarding him from the still chilly nights of early Spring, and he laid his head on Apollo’s chest.

His hair was being stroked gently. Apollo hummed a lullaby that he hoped would calm his lover and put them both to sleep. 

He hoped more than anything the nightmares would not persist. And that if they did, Hyakinthos would cling to him per usual.   
_____________________________________

Apollo did not fall asleep until much later, far after Hyakinthos did. On second thought, he summoned a shawl to place atop his sleeping lover, to keep him warm.

But even gods enjoy sleeping. Especially when the love of their life is sleeping with them.


End file.
